28 lutego 2022
Black Moods
I will not beg,
never. There were some mistakes.
You took a wrong turn
hitting below the waist.
It was a disaster. Asking
for the moon― for chilling.
Drugs make you unholy―
you try to whack the clouds.
I give, you take. But the
balance still remains. Somewhere
we don't meet and part with
unease of sea waves.
I am loosening the grip on me,
let go the legs to take me
nowhere. Unwrite the poem
meant for you.
24 grudnia 2025
wiesiek
24 grudnia 2025
sam53
24 grudnia 2025
ais
23 grudnia 2025
wiesiek
23 grudnia 2025
jeśli tylko
22 grudnia 2025
Eva T.
22 grudnia 2025
Marek Jastrząb
22 grudnia 2025
Yaro